Here he is, our devoted slave. He waits half-naked for us to profit from him. And we please him. We make him lie at the foot of the sofa where we comfortably sit and we humiliate him by crushing him under our divine feet. Feet in our mouths, kicks in our faces, trampling, rubbing our soles in his face; nothing is missing from the repertoire. He gasps as he realises our fury. And we revel in it. A man reduced to a doormat, at our complete disposal. The scent of our sweaty feet will linger on him for a long time.
